


Socioparasitical

by oblivionoil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eye Gouging, Eye Licking, Eye Trauma, Gore, Murder, Parasites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivionoil/pseuds/oblivionoil
Summary: Everyone experiences intrusive thoughts, right? It's not weird to obsessively think about shoving your friends down a staircase....Is it?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Socioparasitical

It started out simply. Fleeting, intrusive thoughts that anyone could have, dumb edgy things from a dumb edgy teen. Dull headaches that required maybe one ibuprofen, tops, and maybe an energy drink before I was back to full power. 

_Woah, I wonder how many bones that drop would break."_ _  
_ _  
__"It'd be so easy to push her down the stairs right now."_ _  
_ _  
__"No one's watching me cook. I wonder if bleach loses its toxicity when heated?"_

They were strange, but remarkably unimportant in everyday life. I was still doing well in school, held a good job at the boba place downtown, and spent every Saturday volunteering with my girlfriend. I maintained a perfect life, ignoring the weird homicidal urges. 

Maybe it was just a side effect of puberty. 

During class one day, someone made an offhanded comment about much I was staring out the windows. I hadn't really noticed until then, but it was almost too distracting. They were open, and we were on the third floor, and one of my classmates was so, so close to an open one...

_ If I vaulted out of my seat, picked her up by the knees and shoved at a good angle, I could probably toss her out of the window headfirst.  _

My parents stopped letting me use the stove at home after they caught me setting the cat next to it for an extended period of time. I wasn't actually going to kill him, Jingles was an honored member of the family, it was just good fun to see how close his little paws could get to the flames before he put up a fuss. 

God, it's so embarrassing to have to admit to my friends that I wasn't allowed to use my stove at home. We all had a good laugh at the lunch table, even though a little voice told me to keep it under wraps exactly why my parents had banned me. 

I wasn't going to kill the damn cat. Everyone was just overreacting. 

The chemistry teacher was out a few days later, something about an emergency wedding. No one was really sure how a wedding could be an emergency- weren't those things always planned to high hell?- but the sub seemed cool, and we had a new unit, so most people just shut up and opened up to page three hundred and seventy six. 

_ Hydrogen fluoride,  _ read the banner at the top.  _ Phosphine, Hydrochloric acid, Nitroglycerine, and other such dangerous reactions.  _

Needless to say, I got extra credit on that project. 

The thoughts became harder to ignore as time went on, crowding out any and all rational fear. Why couldn't I just shove someone down the stairs? It wasn't malicious, I didn't hate my classmates. I wasn't a bully. It just seemed so inviting, watching their faces contort in fear as they fell by my hand. 

I took comfort in online gore. Bestgore, the YNC, and Deathtube soon became immediate timesinks. It was a sick addiction, but I justified it by looking at all the other traffic on the sites. Look, see? I'm not insane. Everyone watches these. I blamed the lack of sleep for how badly my head hurt on the daily. 

I'd been planning a two-day date with my girlfriend for over a month. My parents were leaving town, and we'd gotten permission to stay together in the empty house. It was a perfect opportunity for some action, if you catch my drift. 

And, really, it wasn't my fault that she came over while I was finishing cleaning the driving. How was I supposed to know that hitting someone with a pressure washer was _much_ more dangerous than doing so with a hose?   
  
Even as I had to clear out cute posts because she "wasn't comfortable having photos with such a freak up online," I couldn't get her eyes out of my head. They'd been so wide, so perfect, so wet with tears as she looked at me in horror. 

_ High pressure injection wounds _ soon became one of my favorite phrases to type out into the search bar. Knowing I'd inflicted one like that, left a pretty girl scarred in a way she'd never forget... 

It wasn't long until all of my friends became targets. Their eyes were so fresh, so unafraid, and so perfectly juicy. I wanted to pop the suckers right in their skulls, smear the blood and goop all over until you could barely tell them apart. 

I wanted to be the last thing they saw. 

I was a man obsessed, spending every waking moment surrounding myself with bloody images and horrific plans to make a gorey mess everywhere I went. My head never stopped pounding, and it soon became hard to hold myself back. There was always a knife in my pocket, ready to be shoved through someone's gut at a moment's notice. 

My grades dropped. My friends left. I lost my job after "accidentally" knocking my coworker's hand into the boiler. His eyes had been so beautiful, mouth open in a perfect "o." My parents stopped letting me use the internet unwatched, but that didn't stop me. VPNs and workaround existed for a reason. 

The stupid photos were barely enough to itch my cravings as weeks passed, only worsening my need to see something like this in person. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't even bring myself to shower. I was fueled only by the blinding pain and the feral, overwhelming urge to cover my hands in blood. To ruin someone's perfect eyes. 

Four in the morning on a Tuesday, I decided something had to be done. I couldn't continue living like this, a desperate monster willing to slaughter anyone I saw. No, no, I needed a plan. Something secretive and simple. One person, and then I'd move on. Just one person. No one had to know. 

I needed the eyes. 

The following days passed in a blur as I gathered bleach, an axe, and a plethora of smaller knives to mess around with. We had partner assignments for English, and while no one wanted to work with me anymore, the teacher assigned me a partner regardless and informed us to work together over the weekend. 

_ Bring a spoon, _ my brain told me. 

I arrived at her house with a backpack full of murder supplies, twitching like someone possessed in a shitty 90's horror film. Her parents were out, buying groceries, and it was easier than you've been led to believe to sink an axe into someone's side when they're not looking. 

As she crumpled to the ground, I had to quickly roll the body over to look at her eyes. God, they were practically calling to me, plump and shiny with fear. So much fear. My skull felt like it was about to crack as the pounding pain only increased, tunneling my vision towards her gorgeous eyes. 

Eyes brimming with fear as I loomed over her with a small teaspoon from my mom's prized collection. I didn't see why it mattered to her so much, it was just cutlery.   
  
But the spoon was sharp, and made quick work of the job. 

I collapsed back into the couch, blood dripping down the front of my shirt and through my hands as I stared down into them. Eyes look so strange disconnected from the body, small and round and slightly squishy. 

I held them there for what felt like hours before the pain dulled, briefly freeing me from the chokehold that had become my mind. 

That is, until something moved in my head and I fucking  _ howled _ . There are certain feelings the human body just refuses to handle, and something thick shoving itself through your ear canal was ridiculously high up there on the list. The grim reality of the situation- I was in a living room with a body, covered in blood, and next to a murder weapon- barely had time to set in before I was crumpled on the ground and screaming. 

The perfect, pretty eyes fell from my grasp, hands flying to the right side of my head instead. My fingers hit slimy flesh, blood, and something chunky I didn't want to think about right then. 

Not that I had the ability to form rational thoughts as the creature shoved it's way out, wrapping around my wrist and slipping down to run a long, smooth tongue over my blood-soaked finger. 

It only kept getting bigger, shoving through the hole that had once been a functioning ear attached to my body. The pain was almost gone, fear numbing my entire system as I watched it beeline for the eyes resting on the floor. 

_ Move,  _ something in my brain commanded, and I jerked forward without hesitation. The eyes. I needed the eyes.  _ It _ needed the eyes. 

It became hard to even sob as the tail pressed out of my throat, choking me from the inside out in the creature's desperation to get close to the eyes. There was a sick squish as I knelt on a dead girl's body, head falling to the floor in a desperate ploy to feed the creature, fingers scrabbling across the hardwood until I finally gripped the slimy orbs. 

They were _ disgusting. _

Hand trembling, my arm moved upwards, controlled by something else. I wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but this room, surrounded by the smell of sickness and death. 

The creature pulsed in my head, pushing a wrecked scream from my worn lungs until eventually, finally, the eye was close enough for it to stretch forward and  _ feed. _

The bliss that washed over my body as it sucked the fear out was unparalleled. It was like a thousand supernovas of pure pleasure exploding over me, washing out the pain with unadulterated joy.

The amount of terror stored in an eye is really an incredible thing. 

My own slipped shut as the creature finally pulled itself all of the way out, leaving behind a string of thick blood as it slithered towards the vents to infect another victim. Somewhere, distantly, a door opened, but I was too far gone to care at this point. 

My knuckles brushed against something suspiciously hard on the once-pristine rug, wrapping around the tiny ball with an intensity that had never before felt so inhuman. The footsteps were getting closer, and there was no confusing the scene that lay in this living room. 

Without hesitation, I shoved her eye in my mouth and bit down. 

God. 

Fear is delicious. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! if you made it this far (no clue why youd do that tbh) thank you for reading omg.


End file.
